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LADY BLAKE’S 


LOVE LETTERS. 


THE THEME FROM WHICH 
OWEN MEREDITH 
TOOK HIS FAMOUS POEM OF 

“ LUCILLE,” 


“ Perchance y twas the fault of the life that they led ; 
Perchance ’ twas the fault of the novels they read.” 

Lucille. 


NEW YORK: 

G. IV. Carleton & Co., Publishers. 




















































*• 























* 


















. 













I Hg 











- 


























The Story opens with a Letter from Lady 
Blake , at Saint Savior (a little Watering Place 
in the Pyrenees) to Sir Lionel Bridgeport , at 
Bagneres ( sometimes called Bigore ) asking him 
to return her Picture and Letters , and referring 
to their broken engagement . 


“ Take "hands and part with laughter , 

Touch lips and part with tears ; 

Once more and no more after, 

Whatever comes with years. 

* * * • * 

Remembrance may recover, 

And time bring back to time 
The name of your first lover , 

The ring of my first rhyme.” 

Swinburne’s Rococo. 


Translated from the French by Page Me Carty. 


LADY BLAKE’S 

LOYE LETTERS 


THE THEME FROM WHICH 
OWEN MEREDITH 
TOOK HIS FAMOUS POEM OF 

« LUCILLE,” 




“ Perchance '(was the fault of the life that they led ; 
Perchance 'twas the fault of the novels they read." 

Lucille. 



COPYRIGHT, 1884 , BY 


IV. Carleton & Co., Publishers . 

LONDON : S. LOW & CO. 

MDCCCLXXXIV. 



“ Would I lose you now ? would 1 take you then , 

If I lose you now that my heart has need ? 

And come what may after death to men , 

What thing worth this will the dead years breed ? 
Lose life , lose all ; but at last 1 know , 

0 sweet life' 8 love , having loved you so, 

Had 1 reached you on earth , 1 should lose not again t 
In death nor life , nor in dream or deed." 



s • 









































Lady Blake’s Love Letters. 


FROM LADY LAVINIA BLAKE TO SIR LIONEL 
BRIDGEPORT. 

“ Since yon are about to be married, Lio- 
nel, would it not be proper for us to return 
each other’ s letters and pictures ? 

This is very easy, since chance brings us in 
the same neighborhood, and after ten years 
spent under different skies, places us to-day 
within a few leagues of each other. 

They tell me you come sometimes to Saint 
Sayior ; I remain here only eight days, and 


8 


Lady Blake's 


hope, therefore, that sometime during the 
week you will come with the package of let- 
ters which I claim. 

I occupy the house, Estabanette, just be- 
low the Falls. You can send there a person 
entrusted with the mission, who would re- 
turn to you a similar package which I have 
ready for you in exchange.” 

SIE LIONEL TO LADY LAVINTA. 

“ The package which you order me to re- 
turn to you is sealed and bearing your ad- 
dress. I should, perhaps, be grateful to see 
that you have not doubted that it would be 
ready to be returned to you at any time and 
place you might designate. 


Love Letters. 


9 


But is it necessary, madam, for me to go 
to Saint Savior in person only to confide it 
to a third person to be given to you ? Since 
you do not accord me the honor of seeing 
you, is it not more simple for me to avoid the 
emotion and embarrassment incident to being 
near you again ? May I not more properly 
entrust the letters to a reliable messenger 
who will carry them safely from Bagneres to 
Saint Savior? 

I await your orders, and whatever they may 
be I submit to them blindly.” 

LADY LAVINIA TO LIONEL. 

“ I knew, Lionel, that my letters happened 
to be in your hands just now, because Henry, 


10 


Lady Blake’s 


my cousin, told me lie had seen you at Bag- 
neres and learned the fact from you. I am 
glad that Henry, who is much of a gossip, 
was not mistaken. 

I begged you to bring the letters yourself 
because such things should not run the risk 
of the smugglers who infest the road and 
steal everything that they can get a chance 
at. As I know you to be a man who would 
bravely defend a trust, I could not do better 
than to make you the guarantee and safe- 
guard of what was valuable to me. I did not 
offer you an interview for fear of rendering- 
disagreeable to you what was already painful 
to me. But since you attach regret to this 
omission I owe you and accord you with all 


Love Letters. 


11 


my heart the indemnification. I will, there- 
fore, fix the day in order that you may not 
find me absent. Be at Saint Savior, then, on 
the fifteenth, at nine o’clock in the evening. 
Yon may await me at my house and inform 
me of your arrival by my servant. The 
package will be ready. Adieu.” 

Sir Lionel was disagreeably affected by the 
second note, for it surprised him in the 
midst of a proposed trip to Luchon, in which 
the beautiful Miss Ellis, his intended wife, 
expected him to be her escort. At these sum- 
mer watering places pleasure parties always 
succeed because they are surprises, and life 
moves rapidly on the wing with the constant 
improvisation of new people and fresh fea- 


12 


Lady Blake's 


tures of pleasure. Sir Lionel was amusing 
himself in the Pyrenees as thoroughly as an 
Englishman can when he tries. He was pass- 
ably in love with the beauty and fortune of 
Miss Ellis, and his desertion of this import- 
ant excursion (the lady had procured from 
Tarbes a beautiful nag which she intended 
to ride at the head of the cavalcade) might be 
fatal to his project of marriage and finance. 

His position was embarrassing, for he was 
a man of the most delicate sense of honor ; 
so he proceeded to find his friend, Sir Henry, 
to consult him on the point of duty. But 
to forcëHtiat jovial Briton to a serious con- 
sideration of the question he began by quar- 
relling with him. 


Lone Letters. 


13 


“ Yon thoughtless gossip,” he cried, as he 
entered Sir Henry’s apartment, “why the 
deuce did you tell your cousin that I had her 
letters with me? You never could keep a 
dangerous word to yourself a single moment. 
You are the brook that rises with every drop 
you receive, an open vase that ornaments the 
statues of Naiads, where the water entering 
doesn’t take time to stop.” 

“ Good ! ” said Sir Henry, “ I like to see 
you mad, Lionel ; it makes you poetic. At 
such moments you are a brook, a stream of 
metaphors, a torrent of eloquence, a reser- 
voir of allegories.” 

“Ah, you laugh, do you?” cried Lionel. 
“ Well, we do not go to Luchon.” 


14 


Lady Blake's 


“ Who says so ? ” asked Sir Henry, calmly. 

“I say so.” 

“ Speak for yourself,” said the other, “I 
shall not go,” cried Lionel, “ and therefore, 
you shall not. Yon have committed a wrong 
and shall expiate it. You have gotten me 
into a horrible scrape and your conscience 
orders you to get me out of it. Come and 
dine with me at Saint Savior.” 

“May the devil take me if I do,” an- 
swered Henry; “ I suddenly discover that I 
]ove the little girl who smiled at me yester- 
day, and I must go to Luchon where she will 
be. She shall ride my horse and make your 
Miss Ellis die of jealousy.” 


Love Letters. 


15 


“ Listen, Henry,’’ said Lionel, gravely, 
“ you are my friend.” 

“ Doubtless, bnt don’t soften so suddenly 
on friendship ; yon alarm me.” 

“ Listen, I tell you, you are my friend, 
and applaud the happy event of my life and 
my good fortune. You certainly would not 
like to cause me trouble.” 

“No, on my honor ; but what is it ?” 

“Well, Henry,” said Lionel, “you will 
break off my marriage with Miss Ellis.” 

“Pshaw ! Because I told my cousin Lavi- 
nia that you have her letters ? What influ- 
ence can Lady Lavinia have over you after 
ten years of reciprocal neglect? Are you 
silly enough to suppose that she was incon- 


16 


Lady Blake's 


solable ? Too much remorse, my dear boy ; 
the evil has doubtless been long since reme- 
died, believe me.” In saying which Henry 
complacently regarded his handsome face in 
the opposite mirror, an action which, as they 
say in the pantomime, is easily understood. 
And this little lesson in modesty naturally 
irritates Lionel. 

“Make no reflection,” said he, with 
scorn, “ on the reputation of Lady Lavinia. 
No sentiment of vanity would permit me to 
harm her reputation even if I had never loved 
her.” 

“ It is the same case with me,” said Henry, 
bluntly. “ I never loved her and was never 
jealous of those she preferred, nor have I any 


Love Letters. 


17 


thing to hint against the immaculate virtue 
of my glorious cousin Lavinia.” 

“ You are kind, and she should be grate- 
ful.” 

“Oh, Lionel,” cried Henry, “what are 
you talking about and what are you after \ 
You seem to have grown religious over the 
memory of your loves. You were on your 
knees before the adorable Ellis, and all at 
once you talk of going to see Lavinia at 
Saint Savior instead of Ellis at Luchon. 
Come, now ; which one do you love and 
which one are you going to marry % ” 

“Miss Ellis, if heaven wills it.” 

“And what am I to do % ” asked Henry. 

“You can save me. First read this letter. 


18 


Lady Blake's 


ÛU 

You see, I must decide between a women to 

I 

conquer and one to console.” 

1 4 Halt there, O vanity,” cried Henry. 
“ Didn’t I tell you my cousin Lavinia’s heart 
was fresh and unsullied as a lily, coquettish 
as a kitten ? And if she needs any consola- 
tion I will agree to groan all my days in simi- 
lar misery.” 

‘ ‘ P m glad to hear it, ’ ’ said Lionel. ‘ 6 But 
if this is all true why does she invite me to 
an interview ? ” 

“ Most stupid ehum,” said Henry, “don’t 
you see that it was all your fault % Lavinia 
did not want this interview, for when I spoke 
to her of you and demanded to know if her 
heart did not beat at the sound of your name, 


.Love Letters. 


19 


she replied with a yawn, that it would doubt- 
less beat if she met you. Don’t get mad, 
Lionel ; it was a musical, long-drawn yawn 
with which polite women can show profound 
apathy and cordial indifference. But instead 
of profiting by this good disposition you must 
rush to make pretty phrases, and faithful to 
the eternal pathos of disgraceful lovers, you 
affect a sorrowful tone of eulogy and seem 
to weep over the impossibility of ever seeing 
her again, instead of saying frankly that you 
are devilish glad to get the chance.” 

“ How could I foresee that she would 
take seriously a few conventional words 
shaped to smooth the awkwardness of the 
situation.” 


20 


Lady BlaJcds 


“ Oh,” said Henry, “ I know Lavinia. It 
was a little piece of malice.” 

“No,” replied Lionel, “Lavinia is the 
sweetest and frankest woman in the world, 
and I am sure that is an affectation. My 
dear Henry, save us both from this interview. 
Take the package, go to. Saint Savior, ar- 
range it all and make her understand that I 

ought not under the circumstances to ” 

“ To quit Miss Ellis on the eve of your 
marriage; a good reason to give a rival. 
Impossible, my dear boy ; you have corn* 
mitted a folly and must take the conse- 
quences. Having had the idiocy to keep a 
woman’s letters and picture for ten years, 
and perhaps to boast of it as a gossip like 


Lore Letters. 


21 


me would do, and having performed the cer- 
emony by a cold and formal rupture with 
her, you can refuse her nothing while you 
held those letters, and whatever method of 
returning them she prescribes is law to you 
as a gentleman. Have your horse saddled 

and I will accompany you. I have part of 

» 

the wrong to repair, and you see I no longer 
laugh when duty calls me.” 

Lionel had hoped that Henry would find 
another method of escape, and he remained 
irresolute before the demands of the situa- 
tion. At last, however, he rose, sad and re- 
signed, and crossed his arms on his breast 
Lionel was, in fact, a hero. If his heart had 
been more than once false to his vows his 


22 


Lady Blake ’ s 


conduct had, nevertheless, been chivalrous, 
and no woman could reproach him with an 
action lacking in honor and generosity; and 
faithful to his rules this handsome gallant 
forgave himself the vain gratification of be- 
ing too fondly admired by the fair sex. 

“ Here is a way to get out of it,” suddenly 
cried Henry, jumping .up. “ Let the coterie 
of ladies decide it. Miss Ella and her sister 
Anna are the chief powers of the council of 
Amazons. We will obtain a decree postpon- 
ing the excursion one day. Invent some ex- 
cuse and off we go to Saint Savior, reach 
there in the afternoon, rest till evening, have 
your interview with Lavinia at nine o’clock, 
to horse again at ten, ride all night, and we 


Love Letters . 


28 


are here at sunrise ready for the other lady 
and the excursion, and my pretty friend 
Madame Bernos carricoling on my English 
nag. We change our boots, take fresh 
horses, and pale, tired and interesting we 
follow our dulcineas by hill and vale without 
giving a suspicion of the proceedings of the 
night. Are you ready V ’ 

Lionel rewarded his friend’s genius with a 
warm embrace. In an hour Henry returned. 
All was prepared ; the Luchon excursion was 
postponed sixteen hours. ‘ £ But,” said Henry, 
“ Miss Ellis has her suspicions ; she knows 
that Lavinia is at Saint Savior and she also 
is familiar with your former love and folly for 
that lady, so I swore you were sick in bed.” 


24 


Lady BlaJcds 


“ A new folly to ruin me.” 

“No ; for Dick will fix a bolster with a 
night cap on in your bed and stand sentinel 
outside with a long face and orders to knock 
down anybody who attempts to come in. 
Out we go by the back door. Jack takes the 
horses out as if for exercise and we join him 
at the bridge. Off we go, and may cupid 
guard us.” 

Travelling the distance which separates 
the two chains of mountains without drawing 
rein, the two horsemen entered the narrow 
and sombre gorge which extends from Pierre- 
fitte to Luz. 

It is one of the austere and peculiar scenes 
of the Pyrenees, the mountains grimly draw- 


Love Letters. 


25 


ing together in a narrow pass, through which 
the wind groans and thunders as it rnsnes 
under the arcades of rock clad with vines 
and creepers that crawl up the black walls, 
becoming gray and blue as they go upward 
and catch the reflection of the sky. The 
water of the torrents is at times limpid and 
blue, then sombre and dark as the sea. 
Great bridges of rock span the chasm, and 
nothing can be more imposing than these 
immense arches thrown into space and sus- 
pended in the clear, humid air, as if ready 
to fall into the abyss. 

Seven times in four leagues the road crosses 
the gorge, and as our two cavaliers crossed 
the seventh time they beheld before them 


26 


Lady Blaicds 


the lonely valley of the Luz, inundated with 
the glow of the rising sun, while around 
them in the gorge all was still dark. The 
foaming waters threw up masses of spray 
and fog, and up in the heights the standing 
rays of the sun kindled on the peaks, and 
bathed the valley beyond in living gold, a pic- 
ture set in the dark frame of black marble. 

“ How beautiful,” cried Henry, “ and how 
I do pity a man in love. Lionel, you are in- 
sensible to the sublime. You think yon ray 
of the sun not worth a smile from Miss El- 
lis.” 

“ Henry, Margaret Ellis is the loveliest 
woman in the three kingdoms.” * 

“ Theoretically, her beauty is above criti- 


Love Letters . 


27 


cism, and that’s what I object to in her. I 
shonld like her less beautiful, less majestic, 
less perfect ; I should prefer my cousin La- 
vinia if heaven decreed that I should choose 
between the two.” 

“The pride of the woman blinds you,” 
said Lionel, with a smile. “ I knew Lavinia 
in the freshness of her first youth, and I as- 
sure you that there is no comparison.” 

“ Perhaps ; but what grace and gentleness. 
What glorious hair and little feet.” 

Lionel amused himself combatting Henry’s 
admiration for his cousin, but a scant senti- 
ment of self-love gave him pleasure to hear 
the praises of the woman he had once loved. 
For the rest, it was only a moment of vanity, 


28 


Lady Blake* s 


for never had the fair Ellis reigned so su- 
preme in the heart which long success with 
the fair sex had so thoroughly spoiled. 

It is doubless a great misfortune for a man 
to find himself too early in life placed in such 
circumstances as to excite the admiration of 
women and the jealousy of vulgar rivals, for 
these are enough to shake the mind of any 
novice. Lionel, from having experienced 
too much good fortune, had expended his 
enthusiasm of soul, and his worn-out passions 
rendered him incapable of profound emotion. 
Under a handsome and manly form, with fea- 
tures young and strong, were hidden the cold 
feelings and worn heart of an old man. 

“Come, Lionel,” demanded Henry, “let 


Lone Letters. 


29 


us hear why you did not marry Lavinia Bue- 
nafé, at present Lady Blake, all by your 
fault. Though I respect the royal privileges 
of our sex I hardly know how to find an ex- 
cuse for your conduct. After having courted 
her for two years, and compromised her as 
far as it is possible to compromise an English 
miss, and making her reject a score of good 
offers, you leave her to run after an Italian 
cantatrice who was all unworthy of such a 
forfeit. Was not Lavinia pretty and spiritu- 
elle, the daughter of a rich Portuguese 
banker, and finally, was she not in love with 
you?” 

“Ah, my friend,” replied Lionel, philo- 
sophically, “ that is just what I had to com- 


30 


Lady Blake's 


plain of. She loved me much too deeply to 
be a convenient wife. All clever men know 
that a wife should be a sweet and pleasant 
companion, English in indifference, incapa- 
ble of love or jealousy, and so dissipated in 
tea drinking as to prefer home to a grand 
fête. With her warm Southern heart, accus- 
tomed to the habits of a woman of the world, 
Lavinia would have been the prettiest of 
wives, I the most miserable of husbands. I 
was young then, only twenty-two years of 
age, but at last I awoke to my better self and 
discovered that I was about to marry a wo- 
man who loved me. I stopped on the brink 
of the precipice, and lied to save myself from 
my own weakness.” 


Love Letters. 


81 


‘ ‘ Hypocrite ! ’ 5 cried Henry. ‘ ‘ Lavinia 
told me the story differently, and it appeared 
that long before yonr campaign after the fair 
Kosamonda, you showed Lavinia by constant 
ennui that you were getting tired of her. 
She is a very frank woman, though coquet- 
tish, and if you could hear her tell the story 
in her sad tones you would feel remorse for 
your cruelty.” 

“I do,” said Lionel ; and let me tell you 
one of the things which disgusts us most 
with women is what one suffers after leaving 
i them, the vexation of memory, the voice of 
the vulgar bourgeois world calling vengeance 
on your head, the reproaches of one’s con- 
science and the more reasonable accusations 


32 


Lady Blake* s 


of the lady herself. In fact, Henry, I know 
nothing more franght with ennui than the 
life of a man successful with women.” 

“Need you tell me that !” exclaimed the 
other, ironically. 

Lionel rode on slowly, letting the reins fall 
on the neck of his horse, and contemplating 
lazily the beautiful picture which the widen- 
ing valley slowly unfolded before them. 

Luz is a pretty village a league from Saint 
Savior, and there our travellers alighted, for 
nothing could persuade Lionel to penetrate 
to the spot where Lady Lavinia resided ; so 
establishing himself at an inn he threw him- 
self on a bed and awaited the hour of the 
rendezvous. Though the climate is cooler 


Lone Letters. 


33 


here than at Bigorre, the ride had been hot 
and dusty, and Sir Lionel, stretched on the 
ricketty bed, tossed and blasphemed amidst 
the hum of numerous insects, in vain trying 
to sleep, while his livelier companion tra- 
versed the valley, paying visits and watch- 
ing the cavalcades on the road to Gavarni, 
saluting the ladies at the windows and flirt- 
ing with the pretty French girls, for whom 
he had a great weakness. Finally, at dusk, 
he returned, and, opening the bed curtains, 
called aloud to the sleeping Lionel : 

“Up, up, the hour has struck.” 

4 4 Already ? What time is it?” asked the 
sluggard, waking up lazily. 


34 


Lady Bla/cds 


Henry quoted the couplet of the English 
bard : 

“ At the close of the day when the hamlet is still, 

And naught but the torrent is heard on the hill.” 

“ Mercy !” besought Lionel ; “I know all 
about your torrents and hamlet, night and 
silence ; but Lady Lavinia expects me at 
nine o’clock, not sooner, and I can sleep till 
then.” 

“ Hot a moment more, Lionel, for we must 
walk to Saint Savior. Our tired horses must 
rest. Come, get up and dress, and at ten 
o’clock I shall be at Lady Lavinia’ s gate 
holding your palfrey like great Shakespeare 
when he was reduced to play jockey. Here 


Love Letters. 


35 


is your portmanteau, a white cravat and a 
piece of wax for your beautiful moustache. 
Come, give the occasion a matchless toilet in 
honor of the woman you no longer love 
that’s the law and the fashion for a gentle- 
man. Arrange your hair with more care 
than you would for a ball which you were 
going to open with Miss Ellis. Let me 
brush your coat. What, have you forgotten 
a vial of essence of tube roses to perfume 
your handkerchief of India silk? No, here 
it is, thank Heaven. Remember that you 
should shed at least one tear the evening you 
appear for the last time on the horizon of 
Lady Lavinia.” 

The street of the town was quiet, and the 


36 


Lady Blake' s 


two gentlemen were surprised not to see 
some elegantly attired people, until presently 
the music of an orchestra from a small hotel 
gave indications of the ball. 

In a modest hall, decorated .with wreaths 
of flowers and evergreens, all the elegance of 
Spain and France gathered this season at the 
little watering-place was engaged in dancing 
to the detestable charivari of the violin, 
clarionet, cornet and other instruments which 
seemed thrown together with mutual an- 
tipathy, so thoroughly did they disagree in 
sound. 

Some of the bathers— that is, the invalids 
visiting the place for the waters — were at the 
windows contemplating the scene, looking 


Low Letters. 


37 


over each other’s shoulders and exchanging 
remarks of praise or malice. As onr two 
travellers passed along there was a movement 
and a hum in the crowd, and Lionel heard 
one critical invalid say to another : 

“ That’s the beautiful Lavinia Blake who 
is about to dance now, and they say she is 
the most perfect dancer in all Europe.” 

“Come, Lionel,” said Henry, taking his 
friend’s arm, “let us see how Lady Lavinia 
dances.” 

“Pshaw!” said the other with disdain, 
“ I did not come here to see dancing.” 

But he could not get away before hearing 
another remark from the coterie of invalids : 

“Ah ! it is the handsome Count Morangy 


38 


Lady Blake's 


who dances with her.” “And,” said an 
other, “they say he is madly in love with 
her.” 

Self-love is a strange counsellor, for it 
generally disagrees with reason, and as often 
carries the day. Sir Lionel was charmed to 
hear that Lavinia was so placed as to secure 
their mutual indifference, but the publicity 
of the triumph that could make this jilted 
belle forget the past was a sort of affront that 
made him wince. Henry took him to the end 
of the village where his cousin lived, and 
left him there to await her return from the 
ball. 

The house was isolated from the others, 
one side facing the mountain and the other 


Love Letters. 


39 


a deep ravine. At three steps from the bal- 
cony a torrent descended and plunged into 
the abyss below, filling the house with its 
savage but musical clamor. 

The site was wild and picturesque, making 
the cottage look like a bird’s nest built on 
the verge of the waterfall and perched there 
at the mercy of the elements. An old ne- 
gress opened the door in answer to Lionel’s 
summons, and he recognized the features of 
Lavinia’s nurse, Pepa, whom for two years 
he had been accustomed to see in the house 
of his betrothed. He was so flooded with 
the memories and associations of the past 
that he was about to greet the old creature 
with the gay familiarity of his boyish years, 


40 


Lady Blake's 


but Pepa recoiled. She did not recognize 
him. 

“ Alas !” he thought, “I must be changed. 
Has not Lady Lavinia told you she ex- 
pected a visitor 2 I am he.” 

“Yes, milord; milady is at the ball, and 
she ordered us to. bring her fan when the 
gentleman came. Wait a moment and she 
will be here.” 

Lionel took the fan from the mantel and 
handed it to the old woman. It left on his 
senses the delicious perfume so familiar as 
Lavinia’ s favorite long ago, and recalled the 
past like a withered flower given as a token 
by a beloved hand. This Patchouly repre- 
sented to Lionel the first woman he had 


Love Letters. 


41 


loved. It seemed that a cloud obscured the 
present, and in it stood a graceful, beautiful 
girl of sixteen. Ashamed of his weakness 
the cold man of the world cast a retrospec- 
tive glance over the ten years that separated 
him from the age of love and poetry, and he 
invoked the parliamentary fame which rep- 
resented his alliance with Miss Ellis. Then 
he cast a critical regard around the apart- 
ment. 

People live simply at the watering places 
of the Pyrenees, but thanks to the floods 
and avalanches that devastate the country, 
the spring renovates the dwellings in many 
respects. The little house which Lavinia 
had rented was built of rough marble 


42 


Lady Blake’s 


panelled in the interior with resinous wood 
as white as plaster. A mat of rushes woven 
in Spain and variegated with many colors 
served for a carpet, and white dimity cur- 
tains received the shadows of the larches 
that shook their dark, humid trepes in the 
night wind under the pale light of the moon. 
Little buckets of olive wood held the rarest 
flowers of the mountains. 

Lavinia herself had gathered in the love- 
liest valleys and on the highest cliffs the red 
breasted Belladonna and the blue crested 
Aconite, with many other delicate petaled 
flowers, the pale Saponaire and the trans- 
parent bell flower folded like muslin, the 
purple Valerian, and the wild daughters of 


Love Letters. 


43 


the forest so dewy and fresh that the chamois 
in his rapid course fears to wither them with 
the wind of his flight and the waterfall 
dreads to molten them with its light spray. 

This little chamber had, in fact, the look 
of a place of rendezvous, but it also seemed 
the sanctuary of pure and virginal love. 
The candles shed a timid light, and the 
flowers folded their bosoms with maiden 
modesty. No woman’s garment, or any 
evidence of coquetry was to b'e seen on the 
furniture, and only a bouquet of withered 
roses and a white glove lingered on the man- 
tel. Lionel took the glove and pressed it in 
his hand, where it felt like the cold clasp of 
the vanished hand, and he cast aside the 


44 


Lady Blake’s 


bouquet wherein the dead perfume seemed 
to typify a lost hope. Approaching the 
window he contemplated the night scene 
which was strikingly in harmony with the 
feelings that grew on him. The view was 
peculiar and beautiful. The house, planted 
on the rock, seemed a bastion tower whose 
base was beaten by the torrent ; on the right 
the cataract, descending with a furious noise, 
to the left a mass of drooping larches bend- 
ing their branches over the abyss, and in the 
distance the valley stretching out vague and 
uncertain in the moonlight. In a cleft of 
the rocks a wild laurel grew, and its limbs 
blowing against the window seemed to be 
muttering mysterious words. 


Love Letters. 


45 


Lavinia entered while Lionel was plunge ! 
in his reverie, but the noise of the waterfall 
prevented him from hearing her steps, and 
she remained standing behind him in silence, 
doubtless trying to collect herself, and won- 
dering if this could be the man whom she 
had so deeply loved ; for it seemed the con- 
juration of a dream as she recalled the time 
when she would have fallen dead with grief 
at beholding him. And now there she stood, 
calm, and perhaps indifferent. 

Lionel turned mechanically and saw her. 
A cry escaped him, and then ashamed of 
his confusion, he made a violent effort to 
address her with a correct and proper greet- 
ing. Then a sudden and deep emotion 


46 


Lady Blalzé s 


thrilled his very soul, and he seemed over- 
powered with the presence of the woman be- 
fore him. It was because he had not ex- 
pected to see her so radiant and beautiful — 
he had left her so pale and suffering. Tears 
had withered her cheeks and sorrow marred 
her figure, her eyes were dull and her dress 
careless. She had grown homely, then, with- 
out knowing that grief beautifies only the 
soul, an element in women that most men 
deny entirely. 

Now she was in all the brilliancy of that 
second beauty which returns to women who 
have not received fatal wounds in the first en- 
counters of youthful love. 

But still it was the same spiritual woman, 


Love Letters. 


47 


slender in figure, somewhat severe in profile, 
but with the grace and charm of a French 
woman. Her clear dark skin showed the 
flush of perfect health, her snple form the 
strength of youth, and her hair in rich luxu- 
riance gathered in thick curls over a smooth 
forehead. Her toilet was composed of a 
robe of India muslin and a bunch of white 
heather gathered in the valley mingled in 
her hair. There is no more graceful plant 
than the white heather, and one would have 
said to see its oscillating clusters in Lavinia’s 
hair that it looked like grapes of pearl. 

This exquisite dress bespoke a woman 
whose coquetry developed itself to the im- 
agination by the subtle device of being 


48 


Lady Blake's 


hidden. Never had Lionel beheld Lavinia 
so attractive, and he felt like falling on his 
knees to implore pardon for his cruelty, but 
her calmness restored to him the coolness 
which he felt to be necessary to the trying 
occasion. 

He drew from his bosom a package care- 
fully sealed, and placed it on the table as he 
said : 

“ Madam, you see that I have obeyed like 
a slave. May I suppose, then, that from to- 
day my liberty is granted?’ 5 

“It seems to me,” said the lady, with a 
sort of gay melancholy, “that up to the 
present your liberty has not been questioned. 

■ Is it possible that I could still hold you in 


Love Letters . 


49 


my chains \ I should be too highly flat- 
tered.” 

“ In the name of Heaven, madam, do not 
mock me,” cried Lionel. “ Is not this a sad 
moment £” 

“It is the old story,” she answered with 
a smile, “ and a situation inevitable in such 
affairs. If when we write we felt that it 
might be necessary to recover our love let- 
ters, as if But we will not speak of 

that. At twenty years of age we write with 
profound trust, and smile at the results of 
passions that seem eternal, for we think with 
pride that at least there is one exception to 
the common rule. Noble error, from which 


50 


Lady Blake's 


are born delightful delusions of youth. Is it 
not so, Lionel?” 

Lionel was stupefied at this sadly philoso- 
phical language, which, though natural to 
Lavinia, seemed to impart a monstrous con- 
tradiction, for he had never before seen her 
in this mood. He had known her a weak 
and beautiful child, blindly abandoned to 
the passions, and when he had left her 
broken with despair he remembered her still 
vowing eternal constancy to the author of 
her misery. To hear her now pronounce the 
death warrant in all the illusions of the past 
was frightful. 

This woman who had survived herself and 
did not fear to deliver her own obituary was 


Love Letters. 


51 


a picture lie could not regard without the 
deepest pain. 

He knew well enough what he might say 
on such an occasion, but had not the cour- 
age to help the woman in her suicide. 

As he still held the package of letters she 
said : 

“You know me well enough, or rather, 
you remember me well enough to be aware 
that I claim these letters from none of the 
notions that actuate women generally in 
such cases, when they have ceased to love. 
They have remained in your hands for ten 
years, and it is only the consideration for 
the security of another that prompted me 
to reclaim them.” 


52 


Lady Blakés 


Lionel regarded Lavinia keenly to detect 
a sign of jealousy at the reference to Mar- 
garet Ellis, but it was impossible to perceive 
the slightest change in her look or voice. 

‘ ‘ Has this woman changed to a diamond 
or to ice ?” he asked himself inwardly. 

“You are generous,” he said, aloud, “if 
that is your only motive.” 

“ What other could I have, Lionel ?” 

“I might have thought, madam, that 
personal motives could have prompted you 
to recall these pledges of confidence.” 

“That would be rather late,” she an- 
swered, laughing. “If I had said I had 
waited ten years to entertain personal mo- 


Love Letters. 


53 


tives you would certainly have cause for re- 
morse.” 

“ Madam,” answered Lionel, “you em- 
barrass and pain me.” In saying which he 
recovered his graceful nonchalance, for he 
had expected reproaches and was prepared. 
But the enemy changed front in a second. 

“Come, my dear Lionel,” said Lavinia 
with off-hand good nature, “I do not 
intend to abuse the occasion. With 
age I gained reason, and long since I 
discovered that you had not been culpable 
toward me. It was myself who was at fault, 
for between lovers so young it is the 
woman who should be the man’s guide. 
Instead of losing him in an impossible 


54 


Lady Blakës 


destiny she should keep him for the world 
by drawing it to her. I knew nothing of 
this, and was the involuntary cause of long 
cries of disapprobation that pursued you. 
I was the torment instead of the hope, of 
your youth. Forgive me.” 

Lionel went from one surprise to another. 
He had come to be accused and he found 
himself treated as the judge. He was a man 
of noble heart, and it was only the vanity 
of the world that had withered his fresh- 
ness. The generosity of Lavinia broughl 
forth a rush of tenderness, and dominated 
by her beauty he bent his knee as he ex- 
claimed : 

“I have never compromised you by a 


Love Letters. 


55 


breath, and I blush to own how unworthy 
of you I was.” 

“Do not say so,” answered Lavinia, ex- 
tending her hand frankly. “ When I knew 
you I was not what I am now. If to-day I 
received the homage of a man placed as 
you are in the world ” 

“Hypocrite!” thought Lionel. “She is 
loved by the Count Morangy, the handsomest 
of grand seignors.” 

“ If I had to decide on the happiness and 
on the career of such a man instead of ruin- 
ing him ” 

“Can this be an overture?” thought 
Lionel, and he kissed the hand he held. And 
casting a critical look at it he discovered that 


56 


Lady Blafcds 


it was wonderfully white, slender and pretty, 
as often happens with women in their second 
youth who in girlhood have round, red 
hands. Then regarding Lavinia as he listened 
to her, he was astonished to see the enchant- 
ing changes in her. 

She spoke English with a perfect accent. 
Her exterior in no respect betrayed the 
slightly wild and savage nature of her soul, 
which had marred her charms in early youth. 
Less poetic, she was, nevertheless, ten times 
as attractive. 

At the end of an hour he had forgotten the 
ten years of separation, or rather, he felt 
himself beside another woman whom he 
loved for the first time. 


Love Letters. 


57 


They told each other the incidents that 
had happened to each during the separation, 
and the lady questioned him about his loves 
with the frankness of a sister. She asked 
about the beauty of Miss Ellis, and recounted 
her own travels, friendships and marriage, 
her widowhood and the use she intended to 
make of her future. More than an hour had 
passed, and Lionel no longer counted the 
minutes as he abandoned himself to a sudden 
passion which is generally the last feeling 
left in a wornout heart. He tried in a thou- 
sand ways to animate the conversation with 
some of the old fire, and to bring Lavinia to 
speak of the real state of her own heart, but 


58 


Lady Blake s 


all in vain, for the woman was more adroit 
than himself. 

When he thought he had found a chord of 
her heart he discovered that it was only a 
web, and attempting to take hold of a reality 
only found in his grasp a fleeting phantom. 
All at once there was a knock, loud and im- 
perative, as if meant to defy the clamor of 
the cataract or the interest of the inmates of 
the house. Lavinia trembled. 

“It is Henry who comes to warn me of the 
appointed hour for our departure,” said 
Lionel. “ But deign to accord me yet a few 
minutes and I will ask him to wait. May I 
obtain this favor, madam V ’ and Lionel was 


Love Letters. 


59 


about to urge his request ardently, when 
Pepa entered hastily. 

“ Monsieur, the Count de Morangy wishes 
to enter in spite of the orders,” she said in 
Portuguese ; “ he is there and will listen to 

nothing.” 

“ Heavens,” cried Lavinia, “he is so jeal- 
ous. What shall I do with you, Lionel ?” 

Lionel felt thunderstruck. 

“ Let him enter,” said Lavinia, suddenly. 
“ And you, Lionel, walk out on the balcony. 
You can wait five minutes to do me a 
service.” And she pushed him out on the 
balcony. And, drawing the dimity curtains, 
as the Count entered, she asked, quietly : 


60 


Lady Blake's 


“ What means this noise ? It looks like an 
invasion.” 

“ Forgive me, madam,” cried the Connt. 
“ I implore yonr pardon on my knees, but 
seeing you leave the ball suddenly with Pepa 
I thought you were ill, as you have been in- 
disposed for several days. Ah, my God, 
Lavinia, forgive me, I am a rash fool, but I 
love you so that I know not what I do.” 

Lionel on the balcony became a prey to a 
spasm of anger. 

“ Impertinent woman,” he thought to him- 
self, to make me the witness to her tete a tete 
with her lover ; and if it is premeditated it 
is a voluntary insult. Let her beware. But 
what folly, for if I show anger she will 


Love Letters. 


61 


triumph. Come, let me overhear this love 
scene with the indifference of a philosopher.” 
And he bent over the embrasure of the win- 
dow, and even drew the curtains so as to see 
as well as hear. 

The Count de Morangy was a handsome 
blond man, tall, well-made, and in all re- 
spects elegant. His voice was soft and 
musical, his eyes large and expressive, and 
his mouth clean cut and aristocratic. To 
the eyes of Lionel he was the most formid- 
able rival he had ever met, and one in all 
respects worthy of diim. The Count spoke 
in French, as did also Lavinia, and she list-* 
ened to him with strange complacency. The 
Count ventured in several impassioned 


62 


Lady Blakd s 


speeches, which the lady seemed to take as 
a matter of course. She pressed him, how- 
ever, to return to the ball alone, as it was not 
altogether proper that they should return 
together. But he was bent on accompanying 
her to the door, at least, stipulating that he 
should not enter for a quarter of an hour 
later. In speaking he took Lady Blake’s 
hands, which she permitted him to hold with 
lazy indifference. 

Lionel lost patience, “I am an imbecile 
to assist at this tete a tete” he muttered, 
“ when I can escape,” and he walked to the 
^extremity of the balustrade, and perceived 
that it was closed, but, discovering some- 
thing like a path in the rocks, climbed over 


Love Letters. 


63 


the balustrade and made several steps in ad- 
vance. In a moment, however, he was 
forced to stop, for the path came to the edge 
of the precipice with such slight footholds 
that a chamois would have hesitated to make 
another step, and the moon, almost over- 
head, showed him the depths of the abyss 
from which only a few steps separated him. 
Lionel had to close his eyes to overcome the 
vertigo that attacked him, and it was with 
difficulty that he could regain the balcony, 
where, having once more put that frail de- 
fence of balustrade between himself and the 
danger, he felt happy to purchase safety 
even at the price of witnessing a rival’s 


64 


Lady BlaJcds 


triumph. And he resigned himself to hear 
Count de Morangy’ s sentimental story. 

‘ 4 Madam , 5 ’ said that gentleman, 6 ‘ this is 
too long to play a part with me. It is im- 
possible that you do not know how I love 
you, and I think you cruel in treating my 
devotion as if it were the mere fancy of a 
day. My love is the sentiment of a lifetime, 
and if you do not accept my vows, you see, 
that as a man of the world, I may lose re- 
spect for customs and retire upon cold reason. 
Do not force me to despair, or fear the con- 
sequences.” 

“ You wish me to explain myself defin- 
itely? Very well, I will do it. Do you 
know my history, monsieur?” 


Love Letters. 


65 


“ Yes, madam, I know that a wretcli whom 
I regard as the most despicable of men de- 
ceived and deserted you. The pity that your 
misfortune inspires increases my devo- 
tion. Only noble souls can be the victims of 
men and of opinion.” 

“Well,” replied Lavinia, “know that I 
have learned to profit by the lessons of ex- 
perience, and that to-day I am guard against 
my own heart, for I know that it is not 
always in the power of men to keep their 
faith, and also that they may abuse their 
triumphs. After this do not hope to bend 
my resolution, and if you are speaking 
seriously, this is my answer : I am invul- 
nerable. This woman, so much taunted with 


66 


Lady Blake's 


the fault of her youth, is now fortified with 
a rampart stronger than virtue itself — mis- 
trust.” 

“Ah!” cried the Count, on his knees 
“you misunderstand me. May I be cursed 
forever if I ever had a thought that could 
wound your pride and honor.” 

“Are you quite sure of never having en- 
tertained such designs?” demanded the 
lady. 

“I will be frank,” he replied, with an ac- 
cent of truth, in which the manner of the 
grand seignor disappeared entirely. “Per- 
haps before knowing you I may have enter- 
tained a thought which I now repel with 
remorse. Deception is impossible with you, 


Love Letters. 


67 


Lavinia, for you oyereome the will and com- 
pel homage. Ever since I have really known 
you I swear that my devotion is worthy of 
you. Listen, and then let me hear the de- 
cree of my fate. It is a noble name and a 
brilliant fortune that I lay at your feet, a 
heart and soul that beat and live but for 
you.” 

“A marriage that you proposed” said 
Lavinia, quickly. “Then, Count, I thank 
you heartily for the compliment,” and she 
extended her hand cordially. 

“Thank Heaven for such happiness,” 
cried the Count. “She accepts,” and he 
kissed the hand rapturously. 

“Ho, monsieur, I ask the time to reflect.” 


68 


Lady BlaJcés 


‘ ‘ Alas ! But may I hope ? 5 5 

“ I hardly know, but count on my grati- 
tude. And now return to the ball. I insist 
on it. I shall be there in a few minutes.” 

The Count kissed the end of the scarf and 
departed, and Lionel, opening the curtains, 
awaited Lady Blake’ s permission to enter ; 
but she remained seated on the sofa, and he 
could see her face reflected in the mirror. 

Pensive and absorbed in deep reflection 
she had absolutely forgotten Lionel, and she 
started with surprise when he rushed into 
the middle of the chamber, pale with anger, 
but self-controlled. 

“You will agree, madam, that I have re- 
spected your last love affair,” he said ; “but 


Love Letters . 


I needed profound disinterestedness to pre- 
vent me from feeling the insult so designedly 
given.” 

‘ ‘ Designedly ! ’ 5 cried Lavinia. ‘ ‘ What 
do you dare to think of me, monsieur ? If 
such are your thoughts, begone.” 

“ No, no,” said Lionel, in great agitation, 
walking up and taking hold of her arm, 

‘ ‘ those are not my thoughts. Take no note 
of my words, for I am very much troubled. 
It is time you counted on my reason in 
allowing me to witness this scene.” 

‘ ‘ On your reason, 5 ’ Lionel. “ You should 
say on your indifference.” 

“Mock me,” cried Lionel, passionately, 
“be cruel as you will, you have the right. 


70 


Lady Blade's 


But I am deeply miserable.” He was vio- 
lently agitated, but Lavinia believed, or 
feigned to believe, that be was playing a 
part. 

“Come, Jet us bave done,” sbesaid, rising. 
“You may bave amused yourself witb what 
you beard me say to the Count, but still let 
me say that the man does not displease me. 
Adieu, Lionel, let us part forever, but with- 
out scorn. Here are your letters and your 
picture. There, let go my hand. I must re- 
turn to the ball.” 

“You must return to dance with Mo- 
rangy, cried Lionel, dashing down the pic- 
ture and crushing it with his heel. 

“Listen, then,” said Lavinia, pale but 


Love Letters. 


71 


calm. “The Count offers me a noble name 
and a rehabilitation in the world. My for- 
mer marriage with an old man never cleared 
me entirely from the cruel stain which 
covered a jilted woman, for people know that 
an old man receives more than he gives. 
But a young man, noble, courted and rich, it 
is different. It is worth serious reflection, and 
I am fortunate to have secured such an offer.” 

“O woman, vanity never dies in you!” 
cried Lionel, as she left him, and he went to 
join Henry at the inn. 

“ Curses on you, Lionel,” said that gentle- 
man. “ I have been waiting two hours. Is 
all that time necessary for such an interview % 
To horse, and tell me about it as we ride.” 


72 


Lady Blake’s 


“Good night, Henry,” said the other. 
“Go and tell Miss Margaret Ellis that the 
bolster in my bed is worse. I must remain.” 

“ Heavens and earth, what do I hear ? You 
don’t mean to go to Luchon ?” 

“Another time, but to-night I must stay 
here.” 

“Impossible. You are dreaming. You 
haven’t made up with Lady Blake ?” 

“Not that I know of ; but I’m tired, sick, 
bothered — the devil ; I must remain.” 

Henry was astounded. He tried all the 
powers of his eloquence to persuade his 
friend to go, then finally threw the reins of 
his horse to the groom. 

“Well, then,” he said, “I must remain 


Lore Letters . 


73 


too. The thing seems so funny that I’ll see 
it out. To the devil with the loves of Bag- 
neres. My friend Sir Lionel Bridgeport 
gives me comedy, and I will be the audience, 
appreciative and attentive. 55 

Lionel would have given the world to rid 
himself of his talkative companion, but it 
was impossible. 

“All right, 5 ’ he said, “if you are deter- 
mined to follow me, I go to the ball . 55 

“Good. The ball is a remedy for sick- 
ness and weariness . 55 

Lavinia was dancing with the Count de 
Morangy. Lionel had never seen her dance, 
for in England she only knew the bolero, 
which was not exactly a fashionable step un- . 


74 


Lady Blake's 


der the cold sky of Britain. She had since 
then learned the graceful dances practiced 
in the highest society, and danced with the 
luxurious grace of Spain tempered by the 
spiritual prudery of England. The people 
got on chairs to admire the lovely Portu- 
guese, and the Count was triumphant. Lio- 
nel remained in the crowd unseen. 

There is so much vanity in man that 
Lionel suffered tortures in beholding the 
woman who was once his slave, proud and 
admired and surrounded by attentions, each 
one of which was a revenge for the 
wrong he had done her. When she re- 
turned to her seat as the Count turned away 


Lone Letters. 


75 - 


for a moment, Lionel slipped forward and 
took up the fan which she had let fall. 

She was taken by surprise and uttered a 
faint cry. 

“ Heavens,’ 5 she whispered. “ I thought 
you were on the road to Bagneres.” 

“Fear nothing, 5 ’ said Lionel, “I will not 
compromise you with the Count.’ ’ 

However, he returned directly to invite 
her to dance, and she accepted. 

“ Is it necessary to ask the permission of 
the Count?” demanded Lionel. 

The ball lasted until morning, for Lady 
Blake could keep up the fête just as long as 
she chose to remain, and owing to the dis- 
order which prevails towards the end of such 


76 


Lady Blake’s 


routs Lionel could speak to lier often. His 
^head was turned; and, intoxicated with her 
beauty, excited by the rivalry of the Count 
and mad at the vulgar attentions of the 
crowd, he pushed his advantage to the utter- 
most, bent on awakening in Lavinia’ s heart 
the old love for him. And his own vanity 
whispered such assurances that he went 
from the ball in a state of delirium. 

In vain did Lionel try to sleep. Henry 
had paid his court to all the pretty women, 
and tired with his triumphs of the evening, 
snored in perfect enjoyment. 

When he awoke he cried out, as he rubbed 
his eyes : 

“Well, Lionel, this is a piquant story, 


Love Letters. 


77 


your reconciliation with. Lavinia. I know 
all. When Lavinia came to the ball she was 
sad and depressed, but from the moment of 
your appearance she became radiant and 
joyous. Happy Lionel ! At Luchon a 
pretty fianceé and a rich dower, at Saint Sa- 
vior a lovely friend and a brilliant success.” 

“ A truce to your fooling,” said Lionel. 

Henry being the first dressed, went out 
for a walk, and returned, giving a Tallyho, as 
usual, on the stairs. 

“Alas, Henry,” said his friend, “you 
will practice that fine voice, always ready 
for the chase, and taking your friends for 
uncoupled hounds.” 

“To horse!” cried the other. “Lady 


78 


Lady Blake's 


Blake is already in the saddle. She is going 
with a dozen others to Gedres with the 
Count de Morangy at the head of the caval- 
cade. Do you hear that % ” 

“Silence, clown, and to horse, sure 
enough.” 

The cavalcade was in advance on the road 
to Gedres, a difficult path like a stair cut in 
the solid rock, skirting the precipice and of- 
fering a thousand obstacles to the horse- 
man. 

Lionel galloped forward, and though 
Henry thought he must be crazy, he was 
obliged to follow. Their arrival caused a 
sensation, and Lavinia trembled at the rash- 
ness of the two dashing cavaliers as they 


Love Letters.. 


79 


galloped along the edge of the precipice at 
such a headlong gait. She grew pale at the 
sight of Lionel, and was so agitated that 
the Count de Morangy regarded the two 
with a keen and jealous eye. This was a 
new spur to Lionel’s humor, and all along 
the route he continued to dispute the pos- 
session of the post of honor at her side. 
The difficulty of speaking to her, and the 
emotions which the sublime spectacle around 
them called forth, the lady’s adroit resist- 
ance, and her courage and grace, all con- 
tributed to the exaltation in which Lionel 
found himself. It was a most trying jour- 
ney to a woman besieged by two lovers, be- 


60 


Lady Bldké s 


tween whom she was balancing her heart 
and preference. 

So Lavinia received with delight her gay 
cousin Henry, when he came galloping up 
and took his place between herself and the 
two enterprising wooers. 

As night came on a cloud appeared in the 
sky and the cavalcade began to move faster, 
but it was still a league to Saint Savior 
when the storm burst. The darkness became 
complete, the horses got frightened, and the 
steed of the Count ran away with him. The 
little troupe of gay ladies and gentlemen 
was suddenly disbanded, and it required all 
the efforts of the guides on foot to prevent 
serious accidents. 


Loee Letters. 


81 


Lionel, lost in the darkness and forced to 
lead his horse by the bridle along the verge 
of the precipice, was overcome by an uneasi- 
ness stronger than any regard for his own 
safety. He had lost Lavinia and had been 
vainly searching for her for a quarter of an 
hour, when a vivid flash of lightning showed 
him the form of a woman crouching at the 
foot of a tree just above the road. He 
stopped, and bending his ear recognized the 
voice of Lavinia, but a man was at her side; 
and this could be no other than the Count 
de Morangy. Cursing his rival from his 
soul he moved toward the couple, deter- 
mined to disturb his rival’s happiness. But 
what was his joy to And Henry instead of 


82 


Lady Blahê s 


the Count, and that careless youth with dis- 
creet good nature at once yielded his place 
and went to look for the horses. 

Nothing is so solemn and beautiful as a 
storm in the mountains. 

The voice of the thunders rolling through 
the abyss echoed and echoed in the deep 
gorges, and the wind beating the long larches 
and pines trailed them against the abrupt 
clilfs and howled through their branches like 
the wailing of the great elements of nature. 
Lavinia, absorbed in contemplating the scene, 
awaited the flashes of the lightning to be- 
hold the supernatural and startling phenom- 
enon. She trembled at suddenly seeing 
Lionel in the place of her cousin, and, think- 


Love Letters . 


83 


ing lier frightened at the storm, he took her 
hand, looking with enthusiasm at the grand 
scene of the elemental battle. 

“How grand and imposing,” she whis- 
pered as if in a reverie. “ See how the blue 
lightning illumines the long broken crags 
that rise from the glaciers like ghosts in their 
winding sheets. Behold in the sudden 
changes from darkness to light, everything 
seems staggering as if the mountains were 
about to crumble in wild chaos.” 

“I see only you, Lavinia,” he cried, with 
rapture ; “I hear only your voice and have 
no thought but that you are near me. Do 
you know how desperately I love you ? Yes, 
you do know, for you said it yesterday, and 


84 


Lady Blake's 


perhaps you wish it. Then let it be so ; I am 
at your feet, imploring your pardon for th e 
past by all the hope of the future. Grant it, 
Lavinia, for I love and I have rights over you. ’ 9 

“Rights?” asked the lady, withdrawing 
her hand.” 

“ Is it not a right, and a frightful one ? If 
you could endure the wrong can you not 
give me the chance of repairing it in your 
happiness and mine ?” 

We all know what a man can say in such 
a case. Lionel was eloquent and, recogniz- 
ing his rival’s advantage in the formal offer 
of marriage made the evening before, he 
followed the Count’s example, and offered 
his hand, fortune and life. 


Love Letters . 


85 


“Are yon thinking of what you do,” asked 
Lavinia, “to renounce Miss Ellis when your 
marriage has been settled % ” 

4 4 1 will do it, 5 ’ cried Lionel. 4 4 1 will com- 
mit an action that the world will call inso- 
lent and dishonorable. Perhaps it may be 
washed out in my blood, but I will dare 
anything to win you. The greatest crime 
of my life was not to have appreciated you, 
and my duty now is to regain you. Speak 
to me, and give me again the happiness which 
I lost. To-day I can know and appreciate 
you, for I too have changed. I am no longer 
the rash, thriftless man led by appearances, 
but one who knows life and its deceptions. 
I know that not one of my triumphs is worth 


86 


Lady Blake's 


a single look from you, for the chimera of 
happiness which I was pursuing left me mis- 
erable until I beheld you once more. La- 
vinia, come to me again. Who can love you 
as I can, who else can know the grandeur of 
your soul % ’ ’ 

Under this passionate appeal Lavinia re- 
mained silent, but her heart beat violently 
and her hand trembled in Lionel’s grasp 

? 

while her hair was blown by the wind across 
his face, and he covered the dark tresses with 
kisses. They no longer felt the rain which 
still fell in heavy drops. 

The storm had lulled and the skies were 
clearing when the Count de Morangy came 
up to them as fast as his lame horse, which 


j Love Letters . 


87 


had fallen and nearly killed him, wonld allow 
as he led the animal along. Lavinia quickly 
withdrew herself from Lionel’s transports, 
and the latter, furious at the interruption, 
helped her to the saddle and accompanied 
her as far as her house. Then she said to 
him, lowering her voice to a whisper : 

“ Lionel, you have made me offers of which 
I appreciate the value. I cannot answer 
without having seriously reflected.” 

“ Heavens, it is the answer you gave the 
Count ! ” 

“ No,” she said earnestly, “ it is different. 
But your presence might cause ridiculous 
stories. If you love me, Lionel, swear to 
obey me.” 


88 


Lady Blaké s 


“I swear by Heaven and-yourself.” 

4 4 Then return to Bagneres at once, and in 
my turn I promise in forty hours that you 
shall have my answer.” 

4 4 But what shall I do during this age bf 
doubt ? ” 

4 4 Hope,” answered Lavinia, as she sud- 
denly closed the door on him, as if afraid of 
saying more. 

Lionel did hope, for he had Lavinia’ s 
word and all his own self love. 

4 4 You are wrong to abandon the field,” 
said Henry to him. 4 4 Lavinia begins to 
weaken and I do not recognize you, old boy, 
when you thus retreat and leave the Count 


Love Letters. 


89 


master of the battle-field. Come, you love 
Miss Ellis more than I thought.” 

Lionel was too deeply absorbed in his own 
thoughts to listen to his companion. He 
passed the period assigned locked in his 
chamber, and pretending to be sick. At 
last the letter arrived. Here it is : 

“ Neither one nor the other. When you 
receive this letter and Count Morangy, 
whom I have sent to Tarbes, receives his I 
shall be far away from you both. I shall 
depart forever — lost forever to you both. 
You offer me rank, name and fortune, think- 
ing eclat in the world a great object with a 


woman. 


90 


Lady Blake's 


“No, not for one who knows the world 
and despises it as I do. 

“But think not, O Lionel, that I despise 
your offer to sacrifice a brilliant marriage 
and give yourself to me. You have seen 
how cruel it is for a woman to be deserted, 
and how flattering it is to her self love to be 
able to bring her lover again to her feet. 
And you would give me this triumph to re- 
pair the wrong. 

“I give you my esteem and would grant 
your pardon but that I had long since done 
so. But know that it is not in your power 
to repair the wrong, for the blow was mor- 
tal, killing in me the capacity to love, and 
extinguishing all hopes and illusions. Well 


Love Letters. 


91 


I do not complain of my destiny, ft would 
have come sooner or later, for we all live but 
to see our joys clouded with disappointment. 
I was disabused rather early, it is true, and 
the need of love survived a little my credulity. 
1 have struggled against my youth and have 
conquered it. And can you believe that this 
last struggle against you was anything but 
cruel and hard % 

“ I can say it now when flight has placed 
me beyond the danger of yielding. The im- 
press of the first love can never be effaced, 
and the image of the past will reappear, and 
we are ready again to bend the knee to the 
old, never forgotten idol. 

“Fly, 0 false phantom, you are but a 


92 


Lady BlaTce's 


shadow leading me to die amidst ruined 
hopes. Fly, for I mistrust you, knowing 
that if your tongue can tell the truth to-day 
it may lie again to-morrow. 

“ But why do I accuse you? Are we not 
all weak and fickle? Was I not calm and 
cold when I met you yesterday, convinced 
that I did not love you? Had I not en- 
couraged Count de Morangy ? But in the 
evening, when you were at my side, and I 
heard your voice over the storm, my heart 
softened and melted again. It was yourself 
of old days, the impassioned young lover, 
the first love, my lost, lost youth. But now 
I feel alone and cold, sad as death, for I have 


Love Letters. 


93 


awakened and found that it was only the 
bright dream of a sad life. 

“ Adieu, Lionel. Supposing your offer of 
marriage is sincere, and that it could be 
maintained to the consummation of your 
proposal, still, as perhaps you feel already, 
I should have reasons to refuse you. You 
would have seen the world, so chary and 
stingy of its praise, view your conduct in 
the light of a sacrifice to duty, and it would 
have refused you the triumph you would 
have expected. You might have lost the 
satisfaction with yourself in not obtaining 
the admiration you deserved. 

“Who knows, I might myself have for- 
gotten the bright dream of your return, and 


94 


Lady BlaJcé s 


accepted your new love as a reparation to 
your honor. Do not let us spoil that moment 
of love and confidence. Let us retain the 
memory and never again seek to recover the 
reality. 

“Have no fear of the Count de Morangy. 
I have never loved him. He is one of a 
thousand who, even with my own aid, could 
never touch my heart. I could not have 
stood him as a husband, for such a man sells 
too dearly his protection in making it always 
felt. Besides, I hate marriage, men, eternal 
engagements, plans and happiness arranged 
mechanically according to market values and 
the steps of destiny bought with settlements. 

“ I only care for travelling— solitude, to go 


Love Letters. 


95 


through the world to laugh at the poetry of 
the past and God for the future.” 

* * * * * 

Sir Lionel Bridgeport felt at first a great 
mortification to his self-love, for, be it said 
to console the reader, that in the last forty 
hours he had indulged in many and various 
reflections. First he thought of mounting 
his horse and following Lady Blake, be- 
lieving that he could overcome her resistance 
and conquer her cold reason. Then he 
thought how she might still be immovable, 
and how in the meantime Miss Ellis might 
be offended at his conduct and break off the 
marriage. He remained. 


96 


Lady BlaJcé s 


“Come,” said Henry the next day, when 
he saw Lionel kiss the hand of Miss Ellis, a 
favor which she accorded in token of for- 
giveness, after a quarrel about his absonce, 
“ next winter we will be in Parliament.” 


THE END. 



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